


Pave Your Way with Stones Well Chosen

by TrickyTricky



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Order 66, Canon-Typical Violence, Forgiveness, M/M, Post-Order 66, Revenge, To Include Memories of Violence Against Children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:20:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23993677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrickyTricky/pseuds/TrickyTricky
Summary: Cody has always been a man of singular focus and exceptional skill. When he suddenly finds himself loosed from the chip’s control, after years of service to the Empire, there is nothing to be done but to use every resource in his arsenal to carve out a new life for himself. He will free what brothers he can. He will find the Jedi his hands were forced to betray and make things right. He will build them all a haven to shelter from the cruelties the galaxy has never stopped inflicting.And perhaps, somewhere in the midst of all that, he can find a way to make peace with himself again, as well.
Relationships: 212th Attack Battalion & CC-2224 | Cody, CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 42
Kudos: 642
Collections: Star Wars Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had the privilege of working with two amazing artists for this challenge. Thank you both so much, it was a pleasure collaborating with you!
> 
> [gabelikesart](https://gabelikesart.tumblr.com/) painted the absolutely gorgeous poster art seen at the beginning of the fic. So mind-blowingly awesome to see everyone brought to life!
> 
> [Reena-Jenkins](https://reena-jenkins.tumblr.com/) created a beautiful [fanmix](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23969635) for the story...so many gems there, definitely check it out! 
> 
> And a million thanks to my beta reader, [Wrennette](https://wrennette.tumblr.com/)...this story would not be what it is without the time she put in to give me such great feedback.

Cody woke in a med-bay.

His thoughts were fuzzy, confused. His body felt strangely heavy and numb.

He remembered being carried on a stretcher across a battlefield. The blast of a too-near explosion morphing into flashes of turbulent reality as he faded in and out of consciousness. The shouts and screams of his brothers as they continued to fight and fall around him, pressing forward, as ordered, gaining more, always more territory to bring to order under the banner of the Empire they all now served.

The horror of looking down and seeing a large piece of metal shrapnel sticking out of his gut, stabbing through him.

He...was an Imperial stormtrooper. He was an officer of the first great Galactic Empire, serving under the just rule of Emperor Palpatine, his legions preparing to celebrate the anniversary of the third year of his reign.

But...why?

This is who he was, who he had become, _but, why?_

He had raised his blaster against innocent civilians, ordered his gunships to open fire against peaceful villages, organized the capture and transport of non-human populaces, people he _knew_ would be taken to mining colonies and labor camps where they would be cast down into slavery.

He had led hunts for Jedi traitors, had received multiple commendations for those he’d personally eliminated. Some of those fugitives had not even been old enough to be junior commanders yet, just terrified children. They’d obviously been desperate and starving, cornered when he caught them scavenging for scraps in an alley. One had flung a crate at him with the Force when they tried to flee.

He remembered hating that child, _hating_ her, no trace of mercy in him when he took aim and fired.

_Why?_

His breath caught.

He remembered receiving the order. The one that had changed everything. He remembered his spine snapping straight, everything around him suddenly sharp-edged with perfect clarity, but at the same time devoid of significance. The only thing that held meaning was the immediate execution of his orders with speed, precision, and violence. He had passed along the command to shoot down his general even as that order continued to echo endlessly through his mind. To shoot down the traitor who was deceiving them all by pretending to still serve the Republic as the rest of them did. To search out and hunt down the traitor in the pools below to make sure they finished the job.

He remembered the series of bacta treatments his hand had needed after punching his fist against a rocky wall with all his strength to stifle the surge of shameful relief that had filled him when his men reported no body had been found.

None of it made sense.

Cody would never have chosen to betray his general’s trust and shoot him in the back even as their Jedi charged forward, trying to be first back into the fray to re-engage the enemy, doing his best to keep as many of their men out of harm’s way as he could, as he always had.

And yet he had done just that. He remembered doing it.

_Why?_

  
  


* * *

  
  


Cody never ended up finding out which one of the medics in that Empire-run facility was stealthily using reprogrammed droids to extract the control chips from the clones who ended up in their care. Whoever it was, they never said anything, never gave a hint of their identity. They drew no attention to their actions, working within the system to affect what positive change they could.

He never stopped being grateful for it.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Cody was soon moved from that forward urgent-care outpost to a small long-term recovery facility in the mid-rim region. He was luckier than most. As a highly experienced officer with a proven track record, he was deemed valuable enough to be worth salvaging. The Empire had shut down and abandoned all of the large military medical facilities that had been constructed and staffed at the insistence of the Jedi during the Separatist conflict; they had been deemed far too expensive by Imperial citizens weary of the costs of war. Most rank-and-file stormtroopers were now left behind to bleed out if they fell on the battlefield, bodies far cheaper to dispose of after the fact, a policy he shuddered to remember that he had never thought to question when his mind had not been his own.

He was slated to take command of the redesigned training academy on Kamino, a duty he had been told would be a challenge even for someone with his significant skills. Apparently, the enthusiastically patriotic natural-borns beginning to fill the ranks more and more within the Stormtrooper corps were often found wanting compared to their more... precision-engineered predecessors.

Cody knew he was supposed to have been oblivious enough to take those last words as a compliment.

The oily smile with which they had been delivered spoke of anything but.

Now that the veil had been removed, he could no longer fail to see the barely-concealed contempt that saturated every interaction he’d had with the natural-born Imperial officers he was surrounded by. Looking back, that disdain had been there for years; he had just been incapable of registering it previously. Memories rose up unbidden of similar incidents of blatant disrespect, incidents where he had just stood there and taken the abuse heaped on him without responding. They made him grit his teeth in rage now.

This would be the last time one of these despicable cowards would speak to him with that condescending assumption of blind obedience.

There were so many things he knew he would need to acquire, facts he would need to learn, skills he would need to master to have even a glimmer of hope for success at this mad venture he was embarking upon.

He intended to free as many of his brothers as he could safely reach, especially any remaining troopers of the legacy 212th, to gather up and protect any surviving Jedi he could find, to establish an independent means of survival as disconnected from the monitoring and rigid controls of Imperial space as possible. And most importantly of all, he meant to have his revenge against those who had taken the loyalty, sacrifice, and service of he and his brothers and rewarded it with mind-controlled slavery, with forced participation in genocide and tyranny.

By the end of the war there had been millions of clone troopers scattered across the galaxy, fighting on every front of the conflict. He was under no delusion that he could save them all. There was a coldly pragmatic voice in his mind that was constantly running calculations. How many of his brothers could he extract before drawing the kind of attention from the Empire that would get them all killed? How big a footprint could they expand to before being discovered and obliterated?

And, once they were established, exactly how many slash and burn attacks against the Imperial forces could they get away with before being swatted out of existence by the relentless fist of the Empire?

That was truly the question his mind wanted to latch onto, thoughts of the vengeance he would someday be in a position to claim against those who had violated every thought, every belief, smearing their mucky fingers all the way down into the core of him for years, while they made him...made him do...compelled him to commit unspeakably terrible—

He wrenched his thoughts forcibly back on track once again, focusing on the present moment, on the practical matters before him that he could still affect, could still work to align in his favor.

He needed a ship. A decent-sized one, one that as his brothers began to join him, they would be able to grow into. One large enough to serve as a mother-ship for multiple hyper-capable shuttles, which they would need to primarily operate out of to evade efforts to track their base location.

He would need a handful of surgery-droids from the medical facility. A small number would be enough to get started; he wouldn’t want to move too quickly, to scuttle his efforts before they even began by being too greedy in scope. He would move slow and steady, removing chips a few at a time to grow their numbers at a sustainable rate and avoid detection.

He would need to select those initial men with care. As much as he wanted to let sentiment rule him and find and free the men he had worked with most closely first, he ruthlessly stifled that impulse. There were others he needed to recruit, officers in key positions who would be able to help move their cause forward, technicians and engineers with key skills.

All of that also meant he would need to establish a sizeable base of operations. In some ways, surprisingly enough, he expected that would be one of the more straightforward efforts. Not easy, of course. None of this would be easy. But the more he’d looked into the matter, the more what had seemed like a crazy, impossible notion when it had first occurred to him, began to come together into a workable plan.

There were a handful of derelict space stations, abandoned graveyards left in the wake of the Empire’s purge of the Jedi. With all of the previous occupants slaughtered, their possessions and art stolen or defaced, the Emperor had ordered the stations left otherwise intact to float, endlessly transmitting ominous beacons warning any approaching ships away on order of the highest authority. They had been declared monuments of the Empire’s triumph over the treacherous Jedi, visible markers of the massive power that could be brought to bear against any unfortunate enough to be identified as enemies of the ruling power. After the first few trespassers and follow-on scavengers were caught and made extreme public examples of, now not even the boldest dared approach, all passing ships making sure to give the once-bright havens a wide berth.

With his newly-clear mind, Cody could recall some previous interactions and conversations he had overheard at the highest levels of leadership. It had been speculated among those closest to the Emperor that the man had derived a macabre aesthetic pleasure from the thought of the stations drifting lifelessly through the void of space, the ghosts of those violently killed within perhaps lingering inside the cold, silent metal rooms, a perpetual reminder to any who came across them of the terrible fate that awaited those who earned his displeasure.

It was true that space stations were meant to be, well, stationary. But in the weightless vacuum of space, anything could be moved; you just had to run the calculations carefully and then equip sufficient propulsion power to accomplish your objective. It helped that the Jedi stations had been designed from the outset with mobility in mind, not having been latched into existing gravity wells that would make extraction complicated. They’d always been intended to be relocated to whichever sector of the Republic needed more focused support during any given time period.

It could work.

He could make this happen.

Take one calculated risk at a time, then move onto the next, and the next. Save as many of his people as possible, salvage everyone and everything he could of the Jedi his hands had been forced to help annihilate, achieve his revenge against those who had wronged them all.

There were _so many_ ways it could all fail and come crumbling down around him. He would just need to take it all step by careful step.

But he was smart. He was determined. He had access to the personnel and equipment he would need to get started, and placement within an Imperial facility that was perfectly suited to his needs. Most importantly, he was no longer holding anything back.

A man willing to burn down the entire rest of the galaxy to save what he held most dear could accomplish shockingly bold feats. A premise he would be the most recent to prove true soon enough.

He bided his time, using the command codes and high-level data encryption keys that were still issued as part of his duty kit to pull all the information he could on military movements and personnel assignments, future campaign intentions, weapons development programs; anything he could get his hands on without raising alarms. Most importantly, he used his access to slice deeper into the system, pulling out every trick Crys had ever taught him to penetrate servers he had no business in at all, downloading large caches of highly sensitive information held by the Imperial Security Bureau.

He gathered everything he could find about the chips controlling each of his brothers and the process by which they could be safely removed, about the sporadic rebel uprisings and the Bothan spy net, about the small, independent trading outposts operating off the beaten path, the bounty hunter guilds and criminal cartels that remained stubbornly resistant to Imperial control. He extracted every scrap of data he could find about the Jedi; who was confirmed dead with bodies to prove it, who was missing, status unknown, who was known to be a survivor and still on the run.

He studied and prepared. He tracked down the location of every duty station that held one of his surviving brothers from the 212th.

He healed.

When he was ready, and only when he was ready, he acted.

  
  


* * *

  
  


_The crystals had been carefully tucked away years ago by gentle, loving hands._

_From within their sheltered nook, they had heard the screams of their brethren from across the galaxy as so many others of their kind were destroyed in maelstroms of fire and rage._

_Many had been lucky enough to suffer only a quick surge of anguish before their existence was snuffed out by the cruel blast of an incinerator’s furnace. More, so many more, were taken, claimed within the brutal grip of powerful beings who twisted them, tortured them, made them bleed and wail, crying out their agony to echo endlessly between the uncaring stars._

_Here it was quiet._

_These few lay still in peace, undiscovered._

_Patient, abiding, they softly hummed subdued melodic tones within their sheltered compartment, unseen by greedy eyes that passed blindly over the hidden latching mechanism, unclaimed by grasping fists that crushed and smashed and stole with a reckless abandon that which was not theirs to claim._

_They had no lips with which to object against the callous destruction that raged through the corridors around them, no arms to raise in protest. They could only exist, singing their endless songs of joy and sadness, longing for their fated partners who might still one day come to raise them up and shape their Light into purposeful collaboration once again._

_They did not think as many other living beings in the galaxy did. They could not see nor smell nor hear in the way of organic beings. But still, they lived. They could perceive and feel; they took such pure joy in their simple existence within the Light, rejoicing each time they were found and uplifted by the soul that echoed theirs, that vibrated in a harmonious melody and completed the song projected endlessly from their own crystalline hearts._

_They lived, they felt, they dreamed and sang. But few could hear their songs, and fewer still now cared enough to weave the voices of their own souls along in harmony._

_The songs of the crystals were tinged with a quiet melancholy now, a mournful dirge for the lost children of the Force, the lights of so many who sought to serve life and choose compassion snuffed out by the encompassing darkness, its insatiable hunger swallowing up all mercy and goodness within its grasp._

_But even through the Darkness, through the endless suffering and loss, there was still, always, hope._

_The crystals hummed softly and hoped, trusting that one day, their rightful bearers would return and raise them up to do good works within the Light once again._

_Ever patient._

_Endlessly abiding._

_They existed within the Force, and the Force was with them. They were aware of the many-raveled mysteries of time and space in a way that limited mortal senses could never encompass. They both hoped for the brightness of a better future and knew its many inevitable outcomes within the contradicting waves of overlapping futures, all at the same time._

_In some outcomes, hope would take decades to emerge, precious, shining Lights of potentiality nurtured by careful, trembling hands, rising up to challenge the Darkness with blindingly bright faith and determination._

_In others, there were more immediate paths where those who followed the Light might walk and still reach the brighter, balanced outcomes that beckoned forward with the eager anticipation of every life woven into the tapestry of the Force._

_But always, in every outcome, the Darkness would be beaten back in time by the children of the Light._

_The Force itself would always naturally seek the balance, the stability, inherent in those who acknowledged the presence of the powerful, devouring Darkness but made the harder choice to serve the Light. Its Will could be defied for a time, the element of free will always in play, but never fully overwritten. For its intent was twined through every vibrating atom that comprised the rich tapestry of existence, its rhythms pulsing through every cell and synapse, and its patience was without end._

_It would always ensure their legacy would be reborn, the heirs of the Light-bearers once again donning the mantle of the Force’s best-beloveds._

_Those who walked the paths of Darkness could twist and corrupt and overpower, could choose the ways of domination and control, but they would always sow the seeds of their own destruction as they strode along their lonely paths. For there was no ‘enough’ within the Darkness that the crystals could guide a bearer towards; there was no fulfillment nor comfort to be found. There was only the craving for more, ever more, the impulse to seek the gratification of one’s own desires that could never truly be sated, only swelling into ever more strident demands as each greedy handful failed to fulfill the endless, covetous need._

_The crystals knew that one day soon the wheel of the galaxy would right itself back towards the stability found within the Light, secure and balanced on its axis once again as the stars continued to spin endlessly through the vast expanses of space. One day soon, or one week, month, year, decade, century…_

_Time would pass, as it always had._

_And still, they would abide._

_Always hopeful that one day their favored children might return. Wistfully yearning for the joyful sensation of laughing younglings with eager hands come to claim their fated partners, their souls vibrating perfectly in sync within the gilded glow of the Force. Eagerly anticipating the determined grasp of stalwart Knights, ready to stand resolute in defense of the helpless, their strength lent in aid to those in need, never used to conquer or control._

_They waited, secure within the station that once was filled with warmth and laughter and Light, now floating cold and empty in the endless vacuum of space, hidden within the ghostly metal corridors that still seemed to echo with the pattering footsteps of visiting younglings and the quiet, sincere greetings of welcome and home._

_Soon enough, their patience would be rewarded._


	2. Chapter 2

The apartment was dark and quiet when Bail entered. He stepped inside and paused just past the threshold, letting the door slide shut behind him with a quiet hiss. His shoulders slumped once he was sure he was safely alone, one hand rising to gently massage his closed eyelids, trying to rub away some of the tension before his lingering headache evolved into another full-blown migraine. Every session of the Imperial Senate was a trial to get through, with today’s just as gut-wrenching as the hundreds that had preceded it.

Bail did his best to breathe out his lingering frustration with a long sigh, trying to let it go before he made his evening call to Breha and his daughter. He always did his best to keep the poison of his daily activities as far away from his family as possible. He tossed his wrist comm into the shallow, ornate dish positioned near the entryway, then reached out, his hand fumbling a little along the wall until he found the light activator.

Nothing happened when he tapped it.

He stiffened when he heard a quiet shuffle, freezing for a heart-stopping moment before he began to reach for the small hold-out blaster he kept hidden in his left sleeve, trying to keep the gesture casual, hoping the intruder wouldn’t take his shot before he could—

“I wouldn’t.” The voice was quiet and menacing, emerging from the shadows further inside. Bail stilled, squinting his eyes and peering into the darkness, barely able to make out the silhouette of a humanoid standing against the eastern wall of his main living area. “In fact, why don’t you pull out that weapon, set it down on the floor, and slide it this way. Slowly.”

Bail didn’t move for several long, drawn-out seconds, weighing his odds, then followed the directions tensely, pulling out a slim blaster with two careful fingers and crouching down to set it on the floor, kicking it gently towards the intruder. He was no fighter. If he hadn’t been killed yet, then there was still a chance of navigating his way to a peaceful outcome. It would be foolish to try his luck with an ill-advised shoot-out when the possibility of using his much stronger skills of persuasion was still on the table.

Hopefully, this intruder would make his motives known quickly and Bail could get down to the business of appeasement or bribery, whatever was necessary to get through this encounter until he could contact his security forces to remove the threat.

For now, however, patience was called for. All of the power resided in the hands of the man who had choreographed this encounter so far, who was presumably armed and had already planned how this interaction would go. Bail would only be playing further into his hands by ceding control of the dialogue from the start by blustering and fumbling his way through blindly. 

Instead, he would wait and see what a little restraint would net him in terms of information.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m doing here?”

Bail pursed his lips as he considered his response, something about the voice tugging insistently at his memory; distracting him and pulling his thoughts away from the present moment.

It would not coalesce into anything useful, so Bail dismissed it, rapidly considering and discarding potential replies, finally settling on something simple, something non-specific enough that it might help him begin to puzzle out the motivations of his unwelcome guest.

“What do you want?” He was proud that there was no hint of a waver in his voice despite the rising fear that was shuddering across his skin. He had too many potential enemies now, too many terrors that could be catching up to him. The possibilities were endless. He needed more information about what this intruder into his home wanted before he could begin to come up with a strategy for appeasement.

“The years have treated you well. You look good,” the intruder said, taking one step closer to where he stood, ignoring his question with a blithe arrogance that was disturbing in its casual assumption of power. “Comfortable. Prosperous.” His voice held a subtly hostile tone; low, male, a vaguely familiar lilting accent that he had once heard often, distinctive but with many unique variations, not so many years ago…

“If we are previously acquainted, I would appreciate the courtesy of knowing with whom I am speaking.”

“I bet you would,” the clone sneered, his voice growing more explicitly hostile with every word. “Sure. Take a good look, Senator. We’re well _acquainted_ , after all. Wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

The soldier continued to step forward, slowly passing out of the shadows and into the coruscating bands of light leaking into the room from the endless traffic passing just outside. Bail’s attention was caught first by the blaster held in a steady hand, pointed directly towards him. He had to make a concerted effort to force his eyes away from the weapon, looking up. His breath caught as the man’s face was revealed, a familiar scar twisting over and around one eye. The marshal commander had always carried himself with a professional demeanor whenever Bail had occasion to interact with him and Obi-Wan during the war, seeming to genuinely prefer the structure and formalities to be found within military ranks.

_Cody, his name was Cody_ , Bail thought to himself inanely. Obi-Wan had always been so full of quiet admiration for the man whenever they’d had a chance to catch up with one another during those years of the war. Never missing an opportunity to praise his intelligence, his steadfastness, the gruff kindness and diligent care he took in shepherding all the thousands of men under his command. And, of course, always, _always_ taking the opportunity to make a few pointed comments about the legal status the clone troopers were forced to exist under, and what avenues might exist within the Senate to remedy that.

Obi-Wan had had such _faith_ in the democratic process. In all his years Bail had never met anyone so willing to dedicate their entire life in service to it. Obi-Wan had devoted everything he was to the people the Republic's democracy was meant to represent and uplift in turn. He still considered it one of the cruelest cuts, even among so many other tragedies, that his friend had been forced to witness so much wanton death and destruction even as the very structure he had centered his life around had been burned to ashes.

It was hard to put a finger on what exactly had changed in the commander’s features, but Bail knew he was dealing with an entirely different man now. Someone who was both harder and more unpredictable as a result of the horrors he had lived through. Where Cody had previously maintained a staunch composure no matter the provocation, he now held himself as if eager for an excuse for violence, his features stiff and uncompromising, a slight hint of a snarl twisting his lips.

“What do you want?” This time the question was a whisper, Bail forcing the words out through lips gone numb with horror. There was no reason why this man would come to haunt his doorstep unless it was to tear down what he had spent the past three years building, to dig up secrets he would give his own life to protect.

“What do I _want_?” The voice was a whip crack of barely suppressed rage locked down under a durasteel will. “A shame you never thought to ask that question years ago when you and your colleagues in the Senate were deciding our fate and sending us off to fight and die in a pointless war so you could continue to leech every drop possible from your precious _constituents_. You cared about nothing but sparing _your_ people from the true costs of war so you and your kind could continue to line your pockets with riches bought with the blood of my brothers and those precious few willing to fight at our sides.”

His blood already running cold, Bail’s eyes darted around the room as others began to make their presence known. He heard the slight scuffing of booted feet on thick carpet, barely audible rustlings of cloth and dull scraping of armor, and could make out the dim outlines of over a dozen menacing figures now that they were moving and his eyes were beginning to adjust to the gloom.

Apparently, the former commander did not travel alone.

Bail tried to will his own racing heart to slow even as the armored man in front of him took a moment to pause and breathe deeply himself.

There was nothing but menacing silence from the other men surrounding him as they continued to lurk wordlessly in the shadows, but Bail imagined he could feel their eyes, hot with judgment and rage, tearing through whatever weak justifications his mind was trying to muster in his defense.

“What do we want…I suppose it’s a fair question. We want our lives back. We want our free will and sanity restored and our people returned to us. We want revenge against those who stole everything from us and ground us down under their bootheels for years. But those are all long-term goals. Right now, we want something in particular I know you can give to us. We want the location of Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

It took several tries for any sound to make it out of his dry throat, his stomach sinking with dread. How could this man have known to come here and ask that question of him? That question of all things, directed to him, of all people…“Former-General Kenobi was a traitor to the Republic and an enemy of the Empire. He was executed along with all the others of his kind years ago. I know nothing more about the matter.”

“You’re lying,” the commander said, his voice quiet but utterly implacable. “I know you know something, Senator. I watched the message he left behind on the beacon; the Empire cracked the encryption codes of the transmission eventually. I know my general survived the genocide of his people. He would never have just run off to hide, never have turned his back on his duty. He would continue trying to serve the people of this galaxy to his dying breath, he wouldn’t have given up on defending the chosen government of its people until all _possible_ avenues of hope had been exhausted. He would have come back to fight for it, to fight for the people, to find someone within their government still worth standing up for...and in the absence of Senator Amidala, that leaves only you. I know he would have come to you, Organa.”

_Actually, I went to him_ , Bail found himself thinking, apropos of nothing.

He caught sight of something else, something that made his breath stutter with surprise and caused something that felt a little like hope to kindle in his gut.

There was a scar, well-healed but still pink and new, just above the clone trooper’s temple.

“I understand you are distraught, understandably so, but I can assure you, I have no idea—”

“Don’t _lie_ to me!” Bail couldn’t entirely suppress a flinch backward at the sudden roar, the furious commander taking three quick strides towards him before pulling himself up short, his fists clenched and visibly shaking, his face twisted in a snarl of rage. “Don’t you _dare_ lie to me, you mincing, _useless_ piece of rankweed. Do you think this is a game? That I have time to waste on the mealy-mouthed half-truths and prevarications your kind thrives on? If one more self-serving deception crosses your lips aimed in my direction, it won’t be _you_ who suffers, I promise you that. Just as I’ve lost countless brothers, murdered by the system you helped vote into existence, so I’ll make sure that you lose those dearest to you. After we’ve returned from Alderaan, and you know how it feels to live without one of those you hold closest in your heart, perhaps then you’ll be willing to cooperate.”

No…no, that was…it was supposed to be his own life. It was his own life he was ready to sacrifice, was willing to give to protect that handful of precious survivors. Not this. Not his family.

“You…you wouldn’t. You’re a good man, I know you are, you wouldn’t—"

“Do not doubt for a single _instant_ that I would. My hands are already red, _drenched_ with the blood of innocents! I’ve killed thousands in the service of the same corrupt regime you choose to bow down before every day. Why should I hesitate to spill a few drops more for a far more worthy goal? What makes you think your family, your loved ones should remain safe and untouchable while mine has been slaughtered without mercy, exiled into the darkest corners of the galaxy, forced to kill those they loved, viciously cut down by the involuntary hands of those they would have given anything to protect. And you…you think you can stand in my way with impunity, can keep me from recovering what few scattered scraps of my people remain alive to be salvaged?”

Bail tried to swallow, a helpless little noise caught in his throat as he struggled for breath past his growing panic. Breha. _Leia_.

He had always known his choice to help the Jedi survivors of Palpatine’s massacre and his work to support the growing network of rebels put his family at risk, put his entire homeworld in danger of retaliation if his efforts were ever discovered. But never before had he faced this kind of personal ultimatum. Never before had the threat been so direct, so specific. And despite his protestations, as he looked into the eyes of this man that he and his fellow legislators had wronged so deeply, in ways that could never be amended, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was in earnest; that he had both the means and the will to back up his threats.

He had a choice before him. A test that he had known he might have to face one day, had tried to think through the right response in advance so he could be prepared. So much of their thread-thin hope for the future rested on his shoulders, so many beings had placed their trust and their very lives in his hands.

But now that the moment of confrontation had come, he hesitated. A series of images flashed through his mind. Leia’s infectious laughter, her hands and face smeared with sweets, joyfully dodging her mother’s reaching hands as they played chase through the garden. Breha lying in bed beside him, her face softened with sleep, golden sunbeams dancing over her skin. Leia, again, curled up warmly against him as they read bedtime stories together, crying inconsolably over the loss of a favorite toy, smiling as sweetly as an angel in one moment, and throwing a rage-filled tantrum at the world not bending to her will in the next.

Now that the moment had come, and he found himself staring into darkly resolute eyes that promised death for his family if he failed to cooperate, he found his ideals were worth nothing more than dust as they crumbled beneath him.

“Now. You’ll tell me everything you know. You’ll tell me where my general went after he came to you like I _know he would have_.” The clone’s voice was almost gentle as he spoke, but Bail was under no delusion that the quiet tone indicated any mercy would be forthcoming. “And know that if you lie, I’ll make it my life’s mission to come back and strip those you care about from your life, just as you and yours have done without compunction to me and mine.”  
  


* * *

  
  
Bail did as he had been told, resting his hands flat on the back of his couch, leaning forward a little and staring straight down compliantly. He could sense he was almost through this. He had no interest in provoking a violent outburst at this point in the encounter. He just wanted these men _out_ of his house. And out of his life.

Far, far away from any possible connection to his family.

He heard the nearly-silent shuffling of multiple sets of boots crossing the room, the quiet hiss of his door sliding open, a long pause, then closed again. He counted to thirty silently in his head, forcing himself to sound out each number slowly and deliberately. Once he reached the end and assured himself there was no indication that any of the intruders had remained behind, he let his shaking knees give way, sliding to the floor. He leaned against the back of the couch to steady himself, giving himself just as much time as he needed to gather up the scattered shreds of his composure, then hauled himself forcibly back up to his feet, stumbling shakily over to the wall to slam his hand down on the light controls.

Blinking rapidly to try to force his night vision-dazzled eyes to adjust more quickly, he looked around, unspeakably relieved to see no sign of the trespassers remained. He combed through every room of the apartment just to be sure, feeling a bit silly as he knelt to check under his bed, but doing it anyway. He then pulled out his scanner and went over every inch more thoroughly, verifying that no monitoring devices had been left behind by his unexpected guests.

Then he did it again.

Only when he was fully convinced that the apartment was completely clear did he go into his office and pull open his most carefully concealed hide-away spot. The comm he pulled out had only been used a handful of times, and only existed for the direst of circumstances. It was safest for both of them to keep their direct interactions to only the bare minimum required.

It took a moment for it to connect, but when it did, he found himself breathing out a quick sigh of relief at the steady voice that offered him a greeting. If the young woman on the other end was alarmed at the sudden breach of their agreed-upon communication protocols, she gave no indication of it.

He drew in a deep breath.

“There is something you need to know.”  
  


* * *

  
  
_There was a room, empty and waiting._

_It had been selected and readied for its future occupant with the utmost care and attention to detail._

_Its placement had been carefully chosen; easy distance to communal locations for hygiene and eating, convenient access to one of the primary lift shafts to make movement about the station simple, but also secluded at the end of a residential corridor, a peaceful haven of quiet and solitude._

_Its interior design was carefully modeled on the single occupancy styles that had been most favored within the Jedi Temple before it was razed and occupied; calm neutral tones of color throughout, simple works of abstract art on the walls, minimalist furniture designed primarily for meditation rather than crowded social gatherings, a small decorative fountain trickling musically in one corner of the main living space, bright, hardy plants painstakingly acquired and assiduously cared for until they truly took root and thrived in their new environment._

_All calculated to make an oasis of peace for the intended resident, familiar and welcoming._

_It had been arranged to house a single occupant because that was how matters currently stood._

_But its designer couldn’t help but wish that the future might hold more, and dim reflections of that wish rippled throughout every aspect of the living quarters. The rooms were spacious given the constraints of artificial station-living; far more so than one man alone would ever need. Two could easily live there in comfort._

_The bed currently in place was narrow, suitable for one solitary man, and would be familiar in its humble dimensions. But the space it occupied had plenty of room for something larger to one day sit snugly in its place up against the wall. It would take a matter of minutes to requisition a larger bed from storage should such a desire ever be expressed._

_The room had few furnishings, but its designer could see ghostly echoes of possibility everywhere; a stretch of empty wall where a rack for armor could lie, bare shelves where shared mementos could be placed, more than enough drawers already built into the closet to comfortably store the belongings of two men who lived simple lives._

_There was no sense of entitlement, no assumption that any overtures would be accepted._

_There was only a thin, flickering candle-flame of hope, nearly choked and guttered a thousand times over, but somehow surviving still through all those bleak, wind-swept years. Hidden carefully away, cradled and cupped within broad, scarred hands and embodied now in a ready, empty room._

_It was a room built on unspoken dreams for the future. The one who had assembled it had no way of seeing it, but the Force was woven between every atom of that room, threading its way through his heart and leaving behind soft impressions as he hung the carefully selected pieces of art, as he tended the plants, as he spread soft sheets and warm blankets over the bed just large enough for one man, one precious, beloved man who he would give everything he was to see safe and in the midst of those who loved him once again. The Force itself ached with a gentle, wistful longing within the confines of that space, a yearning for forgiveness, for closeness, for completion in the arms of one feared lost forever._

_Their general had been taken from them._

_Wounded. Hunted. Alone._

_Not for much longer. They were going to find him and make things right. They were going to bring him home._

_Even if they had to build one for him with their own hands.  
_


	3. Chapter 3

By the time their speeder came to a stop outside the main building of the Lars compound, one of the residents was already standing warily just outside the door ready to greet them, blaster rifle in hand. The dust plume from their transit must have been visible from quite a ways off, so the welcome party was hardly unexpected. Cody noted the cautious way the man was positioned, leaving himself an open avenue to retreat into the building if threatened, but stationing himself as the first line of defense for the rest of the family Cody knew would be inside.

His HUD display locked on to the tiny movement of a curtain twitching at one of the windows, a tiny light gradation change flagged for his attention as a shadow moved covertly in the room beyond. No doubt the second farmer, also armed, situated to be the second line of defense for the small family’s young child they had learned about during their inquiries in town.

He had only brought two of his men to accompany him, Boil and Strixe, wanting enough of a presence to ensure they would be taken seriously, without being so intimidating that they’d be preemptively assumed to be an aggressive force. It had taken days of persuasive arguments and every inch of his remaining authority to whittle down the number of troopers accompanying him dirtside to something manageable. Every single clone he had gathered from the scattered remnants of the 212th, and a few from other companies whose lives had been personally touched by their general, had clamored for a spot on the retrieval team now that this all-important mission was finally, _finally_ coming to fruition.

The men of the 212th craved absolution from the man they had all loved and been forced to betray nearly as much as they craved vengeance against those who had raped their minds and coerced them into doing so.

Just as in Mos Eisley, they made no move to remove the mismatched helmets they had donned as they slowly approached the waiting man, hands conspicuously empty and held away from their holsters.

“That’s far enough,” the man called out when they were about fifteen paces away, his voice full of the same gruff hostility they had already become accustomed to from their limited interactions with others on this corrupt, grubby dustball. “I don’t know what you thugs are looking for all the way out here, but we’re paid up in advance on our water tax and in good standing with the clans. What do you want?”

Cody came to a stop as directed, gesturing for his men to do the same. He took no offense at the harsh label; if anything, the insult was encouraging, another indication that their efforts to blend in as commonplace bounty hunters were effective. “We’re not here to cause any trouble for your family. If you give us what we need, we’ll just pass right on through. We’re looking for someone. A man living out in the wilds, alone, keeps to himself, would have arrived about three years back. Asked around in Mos Eisley and the locals seem to think Owen and Beru Lars might be the ones best able to point us in the right direction.”

Up until that very moment, Cody himself had believed the words that had just come out of his mouth. They had come to this farm expecting to just ask a few questions of the locals who happened to live in closest proximity to their actual target, to use whatever small hints they could provide to zero in a little closer. He’d fully expected the simplicity of getting the information they were seeking after offering up a token bribe to a couple of insignificant sand-grubbers.

But he saw the way Owen Lars hunched over at his vague words, his hands tightening on the rifle he held, the way his body language and expression immediately shifted far more dramatically than it should. The way he raised his weapon a few inches in an instinctive movement with an expression of fear twisting his face, as though his family had been directly threatened somehow by the inquiry.

That wasn’t the reaction of a man who knew a few rumors about an eccentric desert hermit and could point them towards where he might dwell.

Cody’s breath caught in his throat. His heart rate kicked up, pulse beginning to thud audibly like white-noise in his ears. He bared his teeth in a smile that he knew would look vicious if it had been visible from behind his helmet.

These farmers were somehow involved in this mess up to their _necks_. And he was one step closer to finally finding what he sought.

  
  


* * *

  
  


To be perfectly honest, Cody was a little surprised that his general hadn’t shown yet.

His own cup of tea was long since finished, and the one he’d prepared for Obi-Wan had gone...not cold, nothing could naturally grow cold during the daylight hours on this dried up oven of a planet, but the same tepid warmth as the sweltering room in which he waited.

Boil had given him a speaking glance before he and Strixe had departed with the Lars family, conveying his skepticism of Cody’s intentions to wait. He thought it was a gamble, not one worth taking when they were so close to their final goal, that there was a chance that Cody would wait here in vain and Obi-Wan would bypass him entirely, would take the chance to flee that he was being given.

Cody knew better.

It wasn’t a gamble that kept him sitting here, contemplating whether it was worth it to brew a second pot of tea while he waited, weighing his own lazy somnolence that the heat always brought out in him against the benefit of the distraction of a task to busy his hands, the pleasing thought of a fresh cup of tea to provide his general when he arrived as opposed to the cooled, stale offering that was all he had now. A gamble implied an element of chance, of random possible outcomes. He knew his general. There was only a stone-hard certainty that Obi-Wan would come here, as he waited in this dwelling in particular, to confront him.

As soon as he’d seen the boy, he'd known exactly what his general had been about.

Any man assigned to a battalion that had ever conducted combined ops with the 501st had been pulled aside at some point by men eager to brag about their general’s bold exploits, forced to sit down in front of a holo-viewer as they played clips and regaled listeners with stories of their general’s accomplishments through the years. One of their crowning gems had been an old, scratchy holo-clip someone had unearthed of a pod-race from years ago, the Boonta Eve Classic, a race won against all odds by a young human boy. 

A boy who bore an uncanny resemblance to the child he had seen poking his head shyly out from behind his aunt’s trousers once he had wheedled himself and his men an invitation into their dwelling to converse further.

His general had brought the child here, was clearly still lingering on this dustbowl with the purpose of watching over the boy. Of course, he would never consider leaving an unknown threat lingering within the child’s home without dealing with it himself.

His general had always been utterly fearless in the face of his own death when he had been standing in defense of others.

It was somehow simultaneously his most endearing and most infuriating trait to the men who followed him.

He was so close to feeling that old familiar swoop in his stomach once again, that flutter of nerves and surge of warmth that always accompanied his first glimpse of Obi-Wan after a time apart.

Soon now.

And this time, when they were finally reunited, it would take nothing less than death itself to tear him away from his general’s side.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Obi-Wan lowered the macro-binoculars and let out a long breath, considering his options as he took his time wrapping the device up and tucking it carefully back into the ragged pack at his feet. He’d been monitoring the Lars’ homestead for hours and had seen no hint of movement, no clues that would indicate the intentions of the man who had taken up residence inside.

He’d sensed them as soon as they had entered the planet’s atmosphere, the bright, clear signatures of their spirits, so familiar to him, once kept nestled so close against his own, ringing out distinctly within the Force. His mind had burned with the contradicting feelings that those lights evoked. A long-familiar sense of protectiveness combined with safety and care rose up within him, instincts that had accumulated through grueling years of war spent desperately fighting for survival alongside the troopers he’d worked most closely with. That instinctive sense of warmth warred intensely with the more recently gained sense of confused betrayal which still lingered despite his best efforts to banish it, muddled with an aching pulse of fear at the very real threat that these once-trusted men now represented to the safety of his young charge.

Where once he had associated the presence of his troopers with comradery and a unified front standing against the terrible forces that sought to burn their way across the galaxy, now all he could see were the bodies of his people, mowed down without mercy, left where they lay crumpled limply in the silent corridors that had once been their home. All he could feel was the blast of blistering heat of an explosive round detonating just beside his left ear, flinging him and the varactyl carrying him off the cliff-face and into freefall, then the cold, hard impact into the pools below shocking him back into action.

Cody had been there then, leading the men of the 212th that Obi-Wan had fought alongside all those years, just as he was here now on Tatooine.

Obi-Wan didn’t know what game the man was playing. He was certain there was some sort of trap in place; if not directly in the Lars compound below, where he could sense no presence beside that of Cody himself, then certainly being laid at the nearest spaceports of the planet. The troopers who had arrived with the former-Commander were likely setting up ambush points even as Obi-Wan continued to pointlessly dawdle here, waiting for him to try to flee. 

He could feel young Luke's Force signature burning brightly some distance away, nestled safely in the shadows of his adoptive guardians still. Sharp spikes of curiosity and delight occasionally burst forth from his exuberant young mind, but Obi-Wan could sense no hint of distress yet from either him or the Lars couple. They may have been persuaded away from their dwelling in the direction of the spaceport by some unknown means, but they had clearly not yet been taken into custody or forced into any other compromising position by the Empire's forces.

He still had some time and space to maneuver. All was not yet lost. 

It was only a matter of finding the precise point to apply enough force to extract that family before they could be seized by the hostile forces that had arrived.

Why the troopers had chosen to do what they’d done when the end of the war had finally been in sight, he still couldn’t fathom. He may never understand why they had thrown their support behind the Chancellor who was suborning the Republic’s Constitution, why they had remained loyal once it became clear what Palpatine’s true nature was. 

Obi-Wan blew out a hard breath and closed his eyes briefly, gathering his composure around him like a cloak. He cataloged the powerful emotions rising within him; fear for the safety of the child under his protection; confusion and pain at the unexpected nearness of men who he had once cared deeply about, but who had turned against him with a hatred and violence that had shattered his whole world. 

And anger, too. Now that he was looking, examining these feelings that were roiling within him as he had been trained, he recognized a fine needle point of red-hot anger that seethed and shuddered behind all the rest. Anger at those who he feared, who had taken so much from him, who apparently sought still to take every last remaining shred he had managed to cling to in the wake of the destruction of all he had known, every hope he still clung to for the future.

That anger could so easily give way to hatred of those it was aimed towards, if he let it...

But, no. 

No.

He wouldn’t give in to that powerful undertow of feelings trying to suck him under its surface. His feelings were a valid part of his experience of the world, to be minded, but they did not define his _self_. They did not encompass him, would not control him; _he_ was _their_ master, not the other way around. 

He had lived through a great tragedy, and in many ways he knew that those experiences were still working their way through him. As he had learned early in life, the burden of guilt and pain on survivors left behind cast indelible scars.

Change and loss and darkness had enveloped the galaxy, an all-consuming avalanche of it, and the grief and terror from its effects on his own life had nearly swallowed him whole. But when he had nothing else, when it seemed as though everything and everyone he loved had been ripped away from him… all was never lost. 

He still had his teachings to fall back on. The bedrock he had built his life around. He knew that change and loss were inevitable. He could not control all of the factors of the galaxy around him, he could not control the choices that others made. He had failed terribly, many times before in his life, and he would no doubt fail again. But that was no reason not to try— no. That was no reason not to _do_.

Obi-Wan breathed out his fear. He understood its source, and that empowered him to accept it, to soothe it, to allow it to pass over and then through him. The fear itself would not serve him in addressing those root causes that he needed to confront. The gut-wrenching sensation would only cripple him with indecision if he allowed it. He let it go.

He took a deep breath in, held it for a count of ten, then exhaled, letting his anger flow out with it. He would do what needed to be done for the good of others, but he would do it with balance and compassion in his heart, not rage. Not with a desire to dominate and harm others in a twisted attempt to transfer his own pain. He had the teachings of his people and a selfless purpose to guide him; there was a peace to be found there, still, he knew it. 

And still, somehow, he had hope.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Beru let herself have a moment of silence to process what she’d just been told by the bounty hunter who had introduced himself with a firm handshake and a single name, ‘Boil’. She let the words that were ringing in her ears fade away, let the fear that tried to rear up within her settle into stillness, until only her present surroundings remained.

She didn’t particularly enjoy the attitude of desperate hustle that permeated the marketplace of Mos Eisley, nor the drifts of rancid smells that occasionally billowed out from nearby vents to cloud the air. But despite the squalor and always-present danger from the criminal elements that made free in the small spaceport, there was something about the dynamic atmosphere of an urban center that had always appealed to her. Owen generally left town-errands to her and was happier for it, preferring the quiet peace of the wide-open dunes and small, far-flung community he had been raised among; she was different, and always had been. 

As much as Beru had tried to bury the ambitions of her youth, to move on to more realistic pursuits, there was a restlessness that remained inside her, a crackling energy that sometimes chafed against the unchanging stillness of life on the farm. Taking the speeder out, running errands, sitting down in the local cantina to share drinks and listen to stories from some of the more colorful smugglers who regularly transited through… these were just a few things she sometimes turned to in an attempt to calm that itch for _more_ in her life which still occasionally reared up to plague her.

The life she was building with Owen was what she’d chosen, what she wanted. It truly was. Even more so now that they had adopted Luke into their home. But there was still that little voice that materialized now and then with no warning, calling to mind all the infinite possibilities of paths unwalked and worlds unexplored. She remembered looking up at the stars as a girl, her imagination supplying her with endless wild adventures wherein she escaped the confines of her life on Tatooine and explored all of the wonders the galaxy had to offer beyond it.

Her younger self had seldom thought about the horrors that could be found out among those stars shining so clean and bright in the night sky. Now, collecting herself and looking over into the blank, opaque visor of the helmet the man standing next to her wore, she let her mind once again confront a near future that would apparently contain some of the worst of those horrors, brought to their very doorstep.

“How soon do you expect them to arrive?” Beru was proud of how steady her voice was in that moment. How casual she managed to sound. She could have been asking about his projections for the next rotation’s weather.

“Looks like construction of the garrison’s just getting started,” her new acquaintance said, his own voice just as carefully neutral as she’d kept her own. “Forces probably won’t arrive to occupy it for another six months or so. Numbers will be small at first, just a skeleton crew to get set up, begin to establish local tactics and procedures. It’ll probably be about a cycle before they’re here in full numbers and then you’ll see the security patrols and enforcement ramp up.”

“Might be good for vendors here in the market,” she said, forcing the words out, keeping her jaw from clenching tight with a deliberate effort. “New customers with credits to spend are always welcome.”

“Might be.” Boil’s mouth twisted a little before his expression smoothed out again, and she knew exactly what he was thinking. _Unlikely they’ll be willing to spend credits when they can just use force to take what they want with no accountability._ There was a short pause before he continued. “Listen, we really do appreciate your husband being willing to come out and give us some advice on what equipment and machinery we’ll need to purchase to get fully set up. We have some basic mechanical knowledge, but the condenser and hydro-agro systems we’re looking to get running in our new venture goes way beyond that.”

Beru nodded shortly. “It’s important people help each other out around here. It’s the only way you’ll stay alive in the end. By working together when you can.”

“Still. Thank you.” There was a quiet sincerity in his voice that warmed her despite her determination to maintain a reasonable distance; he seemed like a good man. “This does seem like a pretty harsh place to raise a family in.”

“There’s always been danger and death around every corner out here on the wild edges. But there’s also been freedom, and opportunity to build a life for those who don’t have access to it otherwise. I’ve always seen envy and regret as a particularly pointless waste of time. Some people were born on worlds with more plenty. We were born here and it’s what we have; I’ve been here all my life and we’ve always been able to make the most of it.” Beru wasn’t sure exactly what he read in her tone that made him angle his body a little more in her direction, his head tilting expressively although his face was still hidden behind the helmet. 

“And are you determined to _stay_ here through all the rest of it?”

She turned fully towards him at the direct question, a bit bemused.

“What exactly are you suggesting?”

“We’re setting up a new living situation, a community where we can be independent. We need folks like you, people who know how things work, who can help get everything set up, keep the condensers and hydroponic systems running. We can’t afford to pay much, but your living situation will be fully covered as a part of the community and you’ll have a fair share of whatever income we bring in from our other work. We’re looking for people willing to pull their own weight, but yes, independence and freedom are at the core of what we’re looking to build.”

Beru had to give him credit for his observation skills. Plenty of off-worlders saw their family and made a snap judgement of how things were run. The reality was, this man was making his offer to exactly the right person. This was precisely the kind of decision that Owen had always trusted her to make for their family, and would stand behind her and support her whichever way she went. She’d been conservative in her decisions for them up to now. Gambles on a world like Tatooine could turn deadly in a moment, and it was rarely worth taking the chance at something better when it meant you could easily lose your livelihood or even your life in the attempt. 

Beru took a deep, steadying breath. She reminded herself that there was no reason for anyone to pay her insignificant little family any mind, so long as they kept their heads down and stayed out of trouble. But, still… they’d all heard the stories by now. The stories of massacres with only one shattered survivor left to tell the grim stories of blank white helmets and merciless hailstorms of blaster-fire. Doors kicked down in the dead of night and family members dragged out of homes for ‘questioning’ in regards to suspicious activity, then never heard from again. 

All it would take was some officer in the garrison to decide he wanted to establish a reputation for harshness, to prove a point to the locals. Or even a false report submitted by a neighbor who felt slighted or covetous of the small scraps of comfort the Lars family had managed to accumulate over the years.

She'd thought they’d have more time before the Empire made its way this far out. Apparently she’d been wrong.

With the Empire’s soldiers about to arrive in greater numbers, setting up a full-scale garrison on the world… with the child she and Owen had taken responsibility for protecting… perhaps it was worth considering other alternatives if something proved to be viable. 

A joyful, high-pitched cry of triumph, followed by riotous giggles caught her full attention, drawing her out of the deep contemplation she’d unthinkingly fallen into. Beru watched, the corner of her mouth twitching up in reluctant amusement, as the man who’d introduced himself as Strixe clutched his chest in exaggerated dismay while Luke reached down to scoop up a handful of bright play-chips with chubby, clumsy hands. 

Normally, Beru would never have considered letting her son spend so much time in the close company of a being she knew so little about. But one thing that both she and Owen had come to accept over the course of their time with Luke so far was that for the most part, the child could be trusted to know the intent of those around him… and react accordingly when there were ill thoughts to be wary of. Chattering happily away, the toddler seemed completely comfortable with the armored stranger in a way that Beru had seldom seen. It earned him enough goodwill that she could allow her thoughts to wander as the two of them played.

Despite all of that, she still kept at least one sharp eye on the child at all times; spaceports on Tatooine were never truly safe places for the unwary. Her family was among those who were afforded some protections and all of the locals knew it… they provided a vital service to the economy that the Hutts profited from and any who caused a disruption to that income source risked the infamously unpredictable outbursts of temper that could result. But everyone also knew that protection was sporadic at best. There was always a chance that some down-on-his luck spacer with more desperation than sense after a deal gone wrong might gun down a passer-by for a handful of credits rifled out of their pockets, or worse, seize an opportunity to abduct someone with their guard down for trafficking as a slave in some distant locale.

These were all realities that she had been hyper-aware of all her life. But some days more than others it struck Beru how much she had come to hate this planet and all the daily injustices and threats that it imposed on everyone living on its surface. _Everyone_ , from the most ruthless, hardened criminal to those whose families had settled here generations ago and somehow managed to eke out an honest existence.

That was possibly why she’d agreed to come out to the spaceport with these mysterious visitors at all, in spite of Owen’s reluctance and her own better judgement. 

Change was coming.

She was beginning to see the shape of it and what direction it might come from. There was a tingle of excitement running across her skin, buzzing in her fingertips; a sense of anticipation that had begun to grow from the moment that speeder had pulled up to their property. There were so few genuine opportunities to improve one’s situation in life out here on the wild edges of civilization that didn’t involve taking from others to get there. If this turned out to be the chance that she was beginning to believe it might be, she’d be a fool not to seriously consider it. 

And Beru Lars was no one’s fool.

“Tell me more.”


	4. Chapter 4

Cody wasn’t wearing his helmet; he missed the augmented array of sensors and information displays that the systems behind his visor usually afforded him in uncertain situations. Instead, the best he could do was strain his ears, trying to pick up any sound that might indicate someone was approaching the cozy little farmhouse.

He’d set his helmet down on its side on the table near where his forearm rested, only a few inches away from where he watched his fingers curl nervously in and out of tight fists as he waited. It was reassuring to have it so close. Now and then one of his hands wandered a little further, reaching inside to trace the bright orange-gold sunburst with its fourteen rays he’d carefully re-painted on the interior of it, hidden from sight. Just for luck.

His rifle and blaster he had laid out further away, down at the opposite end of the long table from where he sat. They lay next to the two vibro-blades he’d begun to carry on his person. Even though he could see them, and the room remained empty for now, it still made him uneasy to know they were outside of his easy reach, that he would need to leap up and lunge across the room to get at them if he needed.

Then again, that was the whole point. If he wanted Obi-Wan to have a chance at feeling safe when he finally arrived, he needed to appear less dangerous… he needed to _be_ less dangerous. And that was an unfamiliar feeling for him, an uncomfortable one. But it would be worth it if it worked.

In the end, he found himself distantly surprised by how normal it was when it finally happened. How anticlimactic. He’d spent so much time turning his memories of the general over and over in his mind over the past months, he and the other men he’d managed to free sharing stories of moments they particularly treasured or that they knew would bring a smile to the others’ faces. General Kenobi had always been a man of carefully balanced, but stark contradictions; austere and restrained in one moment and shamelessly dramatic the next, a glorious blend of caution and recklessness, humility and confidence, infinite care and compassion tempered with a needle-sharp focus that could always see them through to a clear path to victory, and survival, so long as one existed to be found.

He had frustrated and mesmerized the men who served beside him in equal measure. It had been years since Cody had seen his general, his larger-than-life leader and friend who had saved his life so many times by the end of the war that he’d had to stop keeping count. Always ready with a clever quip, a warm smile, a shoulder to lean on. Always there, leading from the front, putting his body and his blade between them and the enemy.

Until he wasn’t.

But now, he just… walked through the door.

He walked through the door as if he’d never been away, stepping down the few stairs in the entry-way until he stood in the middle of the room.

General Kenobi was there. His general was alive and breathing and _right there_. Standing in front of him, just a few feet away, only the length of a dining table separating them. But it was wrong. It was all wrong, and Cody _ached_ when he recognized the difference; that there was none of the softness, none of the warmth that he remembered so clearly. His general’s face could have been carved from stone for how little expression it held.

Cody didn’t realize how dry his throat had become until he heard the click of his own nervous swallow. He thought about reaching for his half-empty cup of tea, long-cooled, but re-considered immediately. He forced his hands still, letting his fingers lie flat on the table. He wouldn’t make any sudden movements, wouldn’t let his fingers curl into nervous fists, he wouldn’t be a threat, he would be _safe_...

“I’m glad you came,” Cody finally forced out, breaking the crackling tension of the silence that had begun to stretch painfully between them. “I’m— it’s good to see you, sir.”

Stars, he hadn’t known he could feel like this. This was somehow simultaneously the most wonderful and the most terrible moment of his life. Obi-Wan just kept staring at him, standing there in the middle of the room with his blank face and his cold eyes. How could something, _finally_ , be so right and so _wrong_ all at the same time?

“Why have you come here?” When he finally spoke, his voice was so empty, so cold. “What do you want with this family?”

“I just want to talk,” Cody said, his voice even, somehow still clinging to his control with desperate fingertips. “I just came to find you, to talk. None of you are in any danger from us. I wouldn’t harm—”

He cut himself off mid-sentence, the words crackling apart like dried autumn leaves in his throat before he could speak them. He _had_ , though. He _had_ harmed him. The circumstances didn’t matter. Denials were pointless.

“Please, sit. I just want to talk.”

Another endless, silent pause, then Obi-Wan nodded, and moved towards the table. His general always had valued civility quite highly and apparently that still held true.

Even as the general warily seated himself at the far end of the table opposite from Cody, he could see that Obi-Wan was still hyper-alert, his eyes darting between the blaster rifle laying beyond Cody's easy reach on the table, the shadows of the poorly lit room around them, and Cody himself. He’d known to expect it, had thought he was ready for it, but actually coming face-to-face with that wary lack of trust still hit him like a body blow. _Of course he expects a trap. Why wouldn’t he?_

“I’m here, you’ve found me,” Obi-Wan said. “And now, you want to talk. What, precisely, did you want to discuss?”

“There’s so much, it’s not—” Cody had to pause to take a breath, slow down and collect himself. He had to get this _right_. “It’s not what you think. It never was. It wasn’t what any of us thought.”

The words were just as hard to get out as he’d expected them to be when he’d imagined how this conversation would go so many times lying sleepless in his bunk. He’d tried to come up with the perfect words, some magical formula that would explain it all away, wipe the slate clean without him needing to relive all the horror of it…

But if they existed, he hadn’t found them. And now, in the moment, he discovered he was still at a loss. He gestured towards the datapad sitting on the table near where Obi-Wan had settled. “It’s all there. I can’t— will you read it?”

Obi-Wan didn’t move for an endless moment, staring unblinking into Cody’s eyes with a tense, brittle kind of attention. Then the spell was broken and Obi-Wan looked down, lifting the ‘pad and activating the screen.

Cody knew how quickly Obi-Wan could process information; he’d devoured intelligence reports back during the war, absorbing them nearly faster than their analysts could churn them out. So, when he started scrolling rapidly through the screens of text and diagrams contained in the device, Cody had no concerns about whether or not he was paying attention to the contents. His general was taking in every word on that screen, and it showed.

The dense ball of anxiety in the pit of his stomach grew as he watched Obi-Wan react as he read on. His tense shoulders slumped, and his head bowed, his free hand lifting to cover his mouth and stroke across his beard as the furrows on his brow deepened.

But he maintained his silence. It was excruciating.

“Obi-Wan,” Cody stopped there, surprise at his own slip catching his tongue. He’d called his general by that familiar name in his own thoughts before, but never addressed him by it out loud. The syllables tasted strange in his mouth, unfamiliar. But, now that he’d broken that seal once, he found he craved the privilege of using a name that indicated a closer intimacy than the careful distance that rank and title sought to maintain.

And Obi-Wan looked up, seemingly startled as well... startled but not displeased, judging by the way the creases at the corners of his eyes crinkled, the way his mouth loosened a little in welcome. Quite the contrary.

“ _Obi-Wan_ ,” Cody tried again, more confidently this time. “Please tell me what you’re thinking. I need to hear it. I need to know whether or not you think you can forgive us for what we’ve done. What I’ve done. You’re under no obligation after what you’ve gone through, but… I _need_ to know.”

“Forgiveness...” Obi-Wan said slowly, and oh, Cody could hear the difference in his voice already; it was thawing. His eyes were no longer empty shards of ice, but expressive, _warm_ again. “I have been trying to make peace with what happened for nearly four years. I’m trying, but I’m not sure I’ll ever truly be able to move past it. I will likely struggle with these feelings the rest of my days. But I never hated you, Cody. And of all people, given what I’ve learned here today, you have never needed my forgiveness.”

“You’re wrong.” The words were raw, rough, forced out past a jaw that was trying to clench tight against the tide of emotion that surged up inside him. “I might not deserve it, and you don’t have to give it, but if— if there’s _any_ possibility I can earn it, then I _need_ to try. We all do. We hurt you, we tried to _kill_ you; we’d have succeeded if you’d been just a fraction less tough. It was our hands holding the blasters that wiped out your family, your people. You trusted us, and we murdered you all, we— we killed your _children_. I saw you looking— I know you read— I don’t know how you can _say that_ when you know what I’ve done…”

“It wasn’t you,” Obi-Wan said, his voice now painfully gentle. “If, as you say, I’ve read what you’ve done, you know I’ve read about how you were controlled as well. You were violated and wronged, just as surely as we were.”

“That doesn’t make it any better!” The denial exploded out of him, and as he shouted Cody leaned forward, pounding his fist violently against the table, so hard that some of the untouched tea sitting in front of Obi-Wan sloshed over the edge of the rocking cup. He had no words for how much he _despised_ the instinctive, deep-ingrained fear that flashed across Obi-Wan’s face before it settled back into resolve, the way that he tensed, leaning away from Cody, one hand dropping down towards his waist.

So much for his control.

Cody forced himself into calm, closing his eyes and uncurling his fists, pressing his hands flat against the table again. “We know all that,” he said, and if his voice shook a little, he knew he wouldn’t be judged for it. “It doesn’t help. We still remember doing those things, remember _wanting_ to do them. I ordered that cannon to fire at you; I won’t ever be able to forget saying those words, how much anger and hatred I felt when I did. I’ll never be able to forget the things they _made me feel_...those things were a part of me whether I chose them or not.”

When he opened his eyes, he saw that Obi-Wan had made an effort to gather himself as well, that both of his sun-darkened hands were visible again and he’d relaxed back out of the coiled, ready-to-react defensive posture he’d fallen into. Cody’s breath shuddered in his lungs and he felt his lips twist, his eyes suddenly burning as he desperately tried to hold back tears. He’d _found_ him. After everything, _everything_ they’d been through, it was supposed to be better now. This was supposed to fix things. He rested his elbows on the table, and buried his face in his hands.

He just needed a moment. He wasn’t giving up, he just needed a moment to collect himself. They could still fix this. He just needed to calm down so he’d be able to find the words that would make things right.

He heard a quiet shuffling and soft footsteps, but didn’t look up. If Obi-Wan was leaving, he wouldn’t chase him; he deserved freedom from them at this point if that was what he wanted. If he wanted to approach and strike Cody down now in retaliation for all he’d done, he wouldn’t stop him. If that was what it would take to balance the scales, he would welcome the blow.

He tensed when a hand fell wordlessly on his shoulder, resting there lightly at first, tentative, then gripping with a reassuring strength when he relaxed into the welcome touch. It was a mercy he’d desperately wanted but hadn’t dared to expect.

“I wish you didn’t have to carry this burden. I cannot begin to fathom what you’ve been through, and I won’t stand here and try to claim to understand it. But please believe me when I say I want to help you through it. The galaxy has become a dark place, and I have other responsibilities still, but you’re important to me as well. You always have been. If my forgiveness is worth anything to you, if it helps you in any way, you must know that you have it. Without condition or reserve.”

Cody’s breath caught as he sensed Obi-Wan leaning closer, until he could feel the soft puff of his exhale on his cheek. Cody held still, barely daring to breathe himself as he felt Obi-Wan gently press his forehead against Cody’s temple, the hand that wasn’t still pressed against his shoulder coming around to rest light fingertips against one of his wrists.

“Cody, I’m so grateful to you for finding your way here and giving me this light back into my life. I don’t have the words to tell you how grateful. I know you never would have harmed me if you’d had any choice at all.” The voice was whisper-soft between them, and he clung desperately to every word. “A part of me died when I thought I’d lost you, when I thought I’d lost you all. It was a wound that has never stopped aching. To have you back in my life, even just for this moment is a gift beyond price. Of course I forgive you.”

A soft, wounded noise filled the air and Cody was vaguely surprised to realize it had come from himself. He drew in an unsteady breath and moved his hands just a little to lift them from his own face to reach out and rest them against Obi-Wan’s cheeks, just the faintest pressure needed to tilt him up enough for their lips to meet when he turned his head to the side. He felt Obi-Wan’s lips tremble against his where they touched, a cold rush of air from his sharp inhale of surprise, but when he didn’t pull away, Cody pressed forward, emboldened, leaning in and bending his neck a little to nestle in closer.

There wasn’t some kind of bolt of lightning like he’d read about, or a dramatic burst of pleasure that exploded within him, but it felt good. It felt _right_. Obi-Wan’s lips were a little chapped, his responses tentative, but still, it was entirely perfect.

After a few seconds, Cody drew back, reluctant to part, but his need to check in was more important than his desire to keep pressing on. He was looking closely, so it was easy enough to spot how Obi-Wan swayed forward slightly to chase his lips as he pulled back before recovering himself and straightening a little, the way his tongue slipped out to pass over his own lips to wet them in the wake of Cody’s kiss.

“Was that alright?” Cody asked. His voice was as quiet as Obi-Wan had kept his, their heads still bowed close to one another. It felt like there was a calm bubble of peace around them that both were reluctant to break.

Obi-Wan licked his lips again, his eyes flicking down to look at Cody’s mouth before rising to meet his own again. There was a look of caution in them now, alongside the softness of trust that had clouded them moments ago.

“Yes. Yes, it was alright. But I think we need to talk about that before we do it again,” he said, but the way he didn’t pull away, seemingly content to tilt his head so that his cheek rested more solidly in Cody’s palms that still cradled his face, gave him hope.

“Alright,” Cody said, almost surprised when he realized the smile he deliberately reached for in response turned into a genuine one. “Alright, of course.”

“I suspect there’s quite a bit we need to talk through still,” Obi-Wan continued, drawing back a little. Before the protest Cody felt rising could materialize, he realized Obi-Wan wasn’t going far. That at some point, he’d tugged the other chair closer with the Force so that when he sat again, this time they were still close, still in contact, rather than separated across the length of a table like enemies at a negotiation.

“Did you mean what you said before?” Cody asked, his voice still hushed but no longer a whisper. “About being happy to have us back in your life?”

“Yes, of course,” Obi-Wan said, but Cody could see that the question troubled him in the way his lips tightened, his brows creasing just the slightest bit. He had a strong suspicion that he already knew what was causing the conflicted feelings, but that would be addressed soon enough.

“There’s something I want to show you,” Cody said, and he couldn’t suppress the frisson of excitement that ran down his spine as he reached into one of his belt pouches to pull out a portable holo-projector. This moment had been long in the making. “We want you in our lives as well. Here.”

As he spoke, he activated the device, and a blue, flickering image appeared, a slowly spinning space station constructed in the distinctly recognizable architecture style of the Jedi Order.

“ _Brighthome_ ,” Obi-Wan breathed reverently, one finger reaching up to carefully trace along the edges of the image. He stared at it for several seconds, then looked up at Cody, a question in his eyes. “What is this?”

“You said it yourself. It’s _home_. Or it could be, if you want it. We’ve liberated it and taken it somewhere safe, somewhere the Empire won’t be able to find it. Won’t be able to find _us_. We’ve already begun to make it habitable again, but there’s still plenty of work to be done to make sure it’s as self-sufficient as we intend it to be. It’s going to be a haven, for freed clones and surviving Jedi alike. Actually, it already is. Took us longer to track you down than we would have liked and we haven’t exactly been idle in the meantime.”

Obi-Wan looked up sharply at that, his eyes drawn away from the mesmerizing image again when he immediately picked up on Cody’s implication. “Who?”

“The few dozen troopers I’ve been able to extract so far,” he said, knowing those men would be just as important to Obi-Wan as the others. “You’ll know a few of them from the 212th; Crys and Gearshift, Wooley and Peel. Boil and Strixe are here on-planet with me.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes in pained acknowledgement of how few names had been listed, how many had been lost. “And?”

Cody took a deep breath. “A few younglings we scooped up here and there after a tip we got from Ohnaka; a tholothian named Katooni, a wookiee named Gungi, and a human boy, Caleb. Your old friend Quinlan Vos found _us_ , rather than the other way around… nearly gave a few of the men a heart attack when he popped up out of the blue.”

He paused for a moment, considering his words for the next part, and giving Obi-Wan a chance to collect himself. He could see how shaken he was already, the reality of the confirmation of other survivors within reach hitting him hard. “And— and General Windu as well.”

Obi-Wan’s head snapped up at that, his eyes bright, his mouth parting to say something.

“He’s not in good shape,” Cody said hurriedly, wanting to get ahead of any wild hopes. “Apparently he was found the night of the Empire’s rise, unconscious, severely injured and missing a hand. He was unbearably lucky that the folks down in the lower levels who stumbled across him were sympathetic to the Jedi, and took him into hiding before the patrols started up. They eventually passed him over to Dex Jettster, and once I established contact with him, he was the one who filled me in. We were able to smuggle him off Coruscant and bring him to the station where we can care for him from now on.”

“Care for him?”

“He’s been unresponsive since he was found,” Cody admitted, hating how quickly the little light of hope that had flickered in Obi-Wan’s eyes at the news was tamped back down. “He can hear and see, and flinches instinctively if he processes something as a threat, but there’s no indication he can recognize anyone or understand anything going on around him. He’ll move slowly if he’s encouraged and can eat and drink if something is placed in his mouth, but he requires a great deal of care on a full-time basis.”

“He’s still alive,” Obi-Wan said, a note of durasteel entering his voice. “That’s cause for more hope than I had an hour ago.”

“He is,” Cody agreed, “and there are others. I know there are others out there we can still find and save, bring back in out of the cold. And once we’ve found enough of them, once we’ve pulled out those of my brothers we can grab from under the Empire’s nose, we’ll be able to really start making a difference. We’re almost there, we almost have enough people and resources to be able to really hit back. If we can just find a few more Jedi in fighting trim willing to join us, a couple dozen more brothers to fill out the ranks, we’ll be ready.”

“Ready,” Obi-Wan said. There was only the slightest uplift to his tone, just enough to make the word an inquiry rather than a statement. Cody didn’t like how otherwise neutral his tone was, but forced himself to press on regardless. He knew he could make Obi-Wan understand if he could just explain the situation clearly enough.

“Ready to strike back! To really put a dent in their operations. To make the Empire suffer for everything it did, everything it took, for my brothers enslaved, for your people murdered. We’re not helpless anymore, not under their control. We’d finally have a chance to make them regret everything they’ve done to all of us.”

“Revenge,” Obi-Wan said, still holding to that calm, neutral tone. It was increasingly making Cody want to reach out and grab his shoulders, shake him until he broke open and spilled his thoughts and feelings outside of all the restraint he’d chosen to embrace for as long as Cody had known him. “Revenge and the accumulation of power needed to achieve it. That is the cause you seek to recruit me and all the other Jedi survivors you can find to support? The ideal you want to build your new community around?”

“No… no, that’s not—”

“But, it is, Cody. It is. You just said as much yourself.”

Obi-Wan paused, clearly gathering his thoughts, his eyes pulled inexorably back towards the slowly spinning holo projection that promised peace and a true home surrounded by people who cared for one another once again. Cody could see in his eyes how much he wanted that, how much he _yearned_ for it, but something was holding him back. Something was making him hesitate. Whatever the obstacle was, Cody vowed then and there that he would overcome it. He hadn’t come this far only to fail when he was so close to victory. Cody watched silently, his own thoughts in turmoil, as Obi-Wan reached out and deftly tapped the button that would power down the display, gently laying his hand on Cody’s wrist to guide it down to rest on the table.

“You need to take a hard look inside and acknowledge that it is.” When Obi-Wan spoke again, it was to continue where he’d left off, his voice soft but heavy with resolve. “Then decide whether or not that’s how you intend to go on. People are counting on you to guide them into the new future you’re looking to build. Upon what foundations will you be building it? A desire to nurture and protect those you care about? Or a desire for revenge against those who have wronged you? You may be able to move in the same direction for a time while walking one of those paths or another, but eventually they will diverge… and if you have invested all your time and energy into paving the wrong one, it will lead you and everyone else in your life to nothing but ash and ruin.”

“You’re telling me you expect me to just get over my anger, let the Empire get away with what it’s done? That I’m _wrong_ for feeling this way and wanting to do something about it?” Cody heard the snarl in his own voice and flinched away from it even as he spoke. He hadn’t expected the conversation to twist like this. He’d _known_ his anger and desire to strike back were justified from the moment he’d awakened from the chip’s control. Hearing someone challenge that now, hearing Obi-Wan challenge that, was discordant in a way that immediately made him want to raise his hackles in defense.

“No,” Obi-Wan said, his voice automatically falling into those smooth teaching tones that Cody had heard him adopt so often during happier times; giving advice to newly-arrived shinies, mentoring Commander Tano, explaining some esoteric trivia involving the xenobiology of whichever Core-forsaken mudball they’d been deployed to that month to Cody himself. “No, that is not what I’m saying, not what I believe. And even if that were the Jedi way, of course I would never dictate such a thing to you. Our ways are not the only ways, and those who choose not to follow them are not lesser for doing so. What I _am_ saying is that whatever path you choose, you should do so mindfully. And that if you are set on walking a path of vengeance, it is not one that I can join you on.”

Cody leaned away, then stood, pacing restlessly for several minutes while Obi-Wan sat patiently, just watching and waiting.

The Empire had violated him and his brothers in the worst ways a sentient being could be abused, had used them as tools, turned them into twisted shadows of themselves who hatefully jeered as their own hands willingly destroyed their dearest allies. Obi-Wan’s words made it clear that he had thus far failed to convince him that his place was back at their sides now that they had finally broken free of those chains. His resistance felt like a blow against everything Cody had been clinging to so desperately these past months as he scrabbled and struggled to keep everything together, a blow against all of his closely held dreams. But he’d always been able take a hit and keep on moving. The thought of leaving empty-handed, after everything he’d done to bring them to this point, was unacceptable. Cody steeled his resolve. He refused to give up on this. On them.

Something had to give. _No, that isn’t quite right, is it_ , he forced himself to face and acknowledge. **_I_** _have to **choose**_.

He knew the rage he held inside himself now was a barely-contained inferno on the best of days. When he was being truly honest with himself, he could admit that sometimes when it simmered over it caused him to lash out in ways that he didn’t want, wouldn’t have chosen if he’d kept a clear head. It was a problem, and one that if he wasn’t careful could become a way of life. That wasn’t what he wanted to bring into the home they would build together.

And they _would_ build it. Something beautiful and strong and _theirs_. He was more determined of that than ever.

“I don’t want power for myself, to achieve my own ends,” Cody said eventually, his voice strained but steady. “I want to be able to protect myself and those I care about.”

“That’s a good start,” Obi-Wan said with a smile.

Cody nodded, his face still solemn. He walked back over to join Obi-Wan, sitting down next to him again.

“I don’t think I can stop feeling this anger,” he confessed quietly. “I’ve tried to bury it so that I can keep it under control, instead of it controlling me, but there’s so much. It builds and builds until sometimes all I can think about is how to hurt those who did this to me back.”

Obi-Wan reached out and held his hand just above Cody’s, his fingers hovering so close he could feel their warmth. It wasn’t until Cody turned his own hand over and pressed his palm up in welcome that he completed the gesture, clasping their hands together.

“It’s not about denying or suppressing the anger within yourself. That would be both unhealthy and just plain impossible; emotions are a natural part of the human experience. It’s about understanding where it comes from, untangling it from your choices before they turn to harm, and seeking ways to release yourself from its hold in due time.”

“I remember the meditation classes you used to hold,” Cody said seriously. “But, every time I’ve tried to put that into practice the memories come flooding back and it’s just too much… I have to bury them. I _have_ to. I hear you, though. It's something I know I need to figure out how to get past. If I’m not being honest about my intentions, about what’s driving me, or if I’m just not understanding it because I’m not looking deeply enough, it’ll lead to bigger problems down the road.”

“You don't have to do it all at once,” Obi-Wan said, his voice warm. “And you certainly don't have to do it alone. I will be here for you if you'd like. And I know that your brothers would feel the same way. You are so _very_ strong Cody; I know that and hope that you do as well. But you can lean on others who care about you to help you through this. In fact, I expect that opening up and giving your brothers a chance to help you heal might do them all a world of good as well. It is one of the greatest joys and balms that I have ever known...to be given a chance to truly help another soul. If you make the choice to keep working towards healing, towards finding a balance within yourself again, I have full confidence you will be able to achieve it, in time. What matters isn’t never feeling the kinds of emotions that overwhelm you with negativity if you let them, or never making a mis-step and giving in to them. What matters is whether or not you’re willing to keep striving towards understanding and compassion, to help others, to try to be better today than you were yesterday. It’s only when you give up trying, give in to that tidal wave of rage and fear within yourself that you would be lost.”

“That’s not me,” Cody agreed, and that conviction wasn’t difficult to find when his general was looking at him with so much faith and trust. “I don’t give up so easily.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I’m willing to try, and keep on trying. For you and for everyone else. But I don’t think I can do this alone.” Cody took a deep breath and decided to stop dithering and plunge straight in with the true question he had come all this way to ask. “Will you join us? There’s a space for you among us. Those children are going to need you. Caleb and the others are going to need a master to complete their training. Quinlan’s going to need a friend to draw him back when his world starts to go dark again. ”

_I need you._

“I...can’t just go. I wish that I could, but I have obligations here that I cannot abandon.”

“The boy,” Cody said, and watched as Obi-Wan stiffened, as that unfamiliar caution again bled into his eyes when he looked at Cody. He wanted nothing more than to wipe that expression of mistrust from his general’s face. They were meant to stand _together_ against any enemy the galaxy could throw at them. It left him feeling wrong-footed as he was forced to confront again how out of sync they had become. Something that he very much intended to correct. “I’ve seen some of the old holos the 501st used to keep around. I knew who he had to be as soon as I saw him.

“You’ve probably been relatively cut off from news updates out here, but the Empire’s been expanding; faster than we could have ever imagined now that there are no checks on the exercise of its power. They’re coming here. The main garrison’s already under construction out by Mos Espa. Within a year they’ll be established well enough there to set up permanent detachments as far out as Mos Eisley and Anchorhead, with security patrols becoming a regular fixture. Is that something you want to wait around for?”

Obi-Wan’s mouth twisted. “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you’ve thought of everything. You always were a master of understanding the battlespace before entering it. Either way, you misunderstand my role. It isn’t up to me to make a decision such as this. I swore to protect that boy, to ensure he had an opportunity to grow up safe and cared for until he was strong enough to stand on his own. But I’m not his primary caretaker, nor am I inclined to try to separate him from those who are. I am here to watch over him, nothing more.”

Cody couldn’t entirely hold back a smile at that. “Oh? So if the Lars family decided to join us on this venture, you’d feel duty-bound to come along as well, then? Is that what I’m hearing?”

Obi-Wan stared at him for a long, unblinking moment, before his lips began curling up as well. He shook his head. “I see that I’ll need to re-learn how foolish it is to underestimate you, Commander.”

“That you will, Obi-Wan. That you will.”

###### Epilogue

Obi-Wan gripped a hank of tough leafy sprouts with one hand, digging the fingers of his other deep into the soil to coax out the last of the big, bright tubers he planned on harvesting for the day. He had already gathered a few more than normal, spending hours that morning in the garden carefully selecting the brightest berries, the plumpest vegetables, allowing his thoughts and feelings to weave seamlessly into the living Force all around him and letting it guide his hands in their work. The garden had improved in leaps and bounds with so much focused care and attention from a Force-user, and he’d found that losing himself within its rhythms was nourishing for his own soul as well. The produce he was gathering now was to be used that night for a small banquet; a welcome home repast for one of the groups returning from their rotation away.

They would be back soon, after weeks away, returning home along a painfully circuitous route to ensure no one could track them, their hold bursting with supplies, their minds filled with priceless intelligence about the state of the galaxy and status of the rebel cells they provided with support. Obi-Wan smiled as a shiver of anticipation tickled across his skin. It had been over a month since he’d last seen Cody, and he looked forward to surprising him with the fruits of the garden he’d managed to coax from the fallow soil. Rex would be returning with the same group, back from his first integration rotation, and given the delighted response Gregor had had to the first fresh produce he had recently been able to serve at the table, and the more understated appreciation Wolffe had expressed, he had a feeling the good captain would be as eager as the others for the opportunity to enjoy something more satisfying than the ubiquitous rehydrated ration-packs. From what he gathered, their years on Seelios had been far from the post-war reprieve that the men had deserved.

Luminara was working nearby, humming a wordless little creche song softly to herself as she continued her slow but steady progress on the intricate mosaic she had designed; only a small section was done so far, but when it was complete, it would serve as an elegant meandering path through the garden. She spoke rarely these days. They’d managed to free her and a handful of others being held in the Spire on Stygeon Prime, but no one pressed her for words, here. Obi-Wan reached out, allowing his mind to blossom out into the Force around him, delighting in the wholesome glow of _life_ all around him, brushing a careful tendril of affection over in her direction. She tilted her head with a smile, her hum changing a bit in pitch as she acknowledged his touch within the Force, reaching back to exchange an easy, wordless communion of spirits, as they’d done time and time again since they were children together in the creche.

A small huff of laughter escaped his own lips in response to a burst of contagious giggles drifting through the humid air from the other side of the garden. A short distance away a small group of younglings and Initiates were tending their own corner of soil they’d been given to cultivate. It had taken many months of healing and peace before their dark and weary spirits could truly ease into the comfort, safety, and care they were surrounded with in their new home, and they all still grieved every day for all that they had lost. But the wholesome sound of children’s laughter filled the air more and more often now with every week that passed.

Little Hedala had joined them only recently, and the sweet-natured girl brought a glow of untainted joy and mischief that had done the other children a world of good to be exposed to. They delighted in teaching her all the many variants of push-feather that Initiates had invented and passed down through the generations, while groaning good-naturedly about their consistent losses in sneak-seek games where the young child’s particular Force-gifts allowed her to excel.

The younglings had proved to be the most resilient of them all. While the scars they had been left with would always linger, he had faith that with care and attention these precious few children left in their care could still thrive and move forward. One day they would be strong and ready, carrying the legacy of their people into the future, beacons of hope for a galaxy in turmoil that needed examples of fortitude and compassion to rally behind more than ever before.

Even nearly lost as he was in experiencing the rich, green radiance of healthy, growing things all around him, curling his own spirit in a warm embrace with his sister in the Force beside him, and basking in the fizzling brightness of the nearby childrens’ delight, there was no chance he could fail to notice the unique signature of his dearest friend finally approaching closer after so long apart. He smiled to himself and kept his hands busy for a little while longer, tugging another few plump fruits from their vines and dropping them into his basket. Obi-Wan could feel the energy of their ripe readiness tingling pleasantly against his skin as he plucked them, and with a sudden surge of whimsy, kept one to hold, tossing it back and forth a few times between his hands, taking time to pause and enjoy the simple pleasure of the act, the satisfying little _thump_ the fruit made against his palm each time he caught it.

He could tell already that they would be a perfect balance of sweet and tart, crisp against their teeth, a perfect dessert to slice up, season, and serve to their returning comrades as a welcome home that night.

Booted footsteps neared, and Obi-Wan felt a small lash of sadness interrupt his peaceful contemplation when Luminara’s contented humming trailed off, as she quickly but neatly gathered her tools and materials and set them aside for later use, then gathered her voluminous robes around her and swept silently away to exit the garden discreetly in the opposite direction. He closed his eyes and accepted the sadness, embraced it as a part of himself that he would acknowledge but not allow to overtake him. One last fond caress from Luminara that he returned whole-heartedly before their spirits untwined left him with a bittersweet smile on his face.

He hoped she would feel steady enough to seek out Ahsoka once her turmoil had calmed enough to welcome the company of others again. The two of them had developed a close bond in recent months, finding solace in shared grief and loss, and the young Togruta had a way of soothing Luminara’s anxieties in a way that few others could. Master Unduli was still recovering from the terrible mental and physical wounds that her time incarcerated by the Empire had left her with, but there was no need to rush her recovery. He had faith she would come to find her own peace in time. Today she still could not endure the presence of one she could not help but associate with darkness and soul-rending torment.

But tomorrow she might yet be able to break those heavy chains her ordeal had left tangled around her spirit.

They were all still seeking, still striving, still learning to become better versions of themselves. Still deciding each day that their path would be one of compassion and care for others above themselves. Journey before destination. Just as they always had. He was determined for his own part that he always would.

He looked up just as Cody approached, still in his ragged bounty hunter disguise. Apparently he had come straight from the hangar without even pausing long enough to change out of the outfit that Obi-Wan knew still felt unnatural to him or even enjoy the luxury of a hot water shower in his own quarters after so long away. A warm bubble of contentment rose up within him as Cody leaned down towards him, meeting Obi-Wan as he shifted on his knees, straightening up as far as he could to meet him. Strong, gentle hands cupped his cheeks, guiding him to meet a soft, smiling mouth against his own, first with a trembling sense of relief and reunion, quickly turning to passion and a deep pulsing hunger.

Obi-Wan forced himself to break away when he finally registered that the nearby childrens’ laughter had quieted down into surprised silence, only to break out anew into louder peals filled with mischievous intent. Something told him it was the better part of wisdom to avoid finding out what the little hellions were cooking up in retaliation for the ‘grossness’ of romantic affection they had just brushed up against. So long as they didn't persuade Master Yoda to join them in their schemes, he and Cody together could likely outmaneuver the worst of whatever retribution was intended. Then again, there was small chance of that; any opportunity to make mischief with the younglings was one that Yoda was always more than pleased to embrace.

When he looked up into Cody’s eyes, he could tell his lover was already on the same sheet of flimsi. They could drop off the small harvest with the team on culinary duty, and then… Well, then he could bring all his focus to bear on providing a proper welcome home to the man who had brought all the light in the galaxy back into his life.

Obi-wan leaned up to press one more small kiss against Cody’s lips, lingering and sweet, before pulling away and accepting the outstretched hand to help him up to his feet. He tightened his fingers around Cody’s palm once he was up, squeezing once in wordless affection before letting him go to gather up his tools and basket.

“It’s good to be home,” Cody said simply, reaching out to help him with his burden with a soft smile of his own.


End file.
